


Celebration

by RussianWitch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Anniversary, Cannibalism, Introspection, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 04:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: There is only one gift Hannibal ever wants.





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd

"See, this is all I ever wanted for you, Will," you whisper, your arms around me, "for both of us." 

Lightheaded as I am with blood loss and adrenaline, it seems reasonable. I claw at you, borrow closer until we are intertwined, and realize how well my head fits in the crook of his neck. 

Balancing on the very edge of the cliff, the world falls away, and you are everything to me. 

You might have wanted me to see the way blood looks in the moonlight, but really, it wasn't the blood you wanted to show me, not even the pleasure of the kill—what you've wanted from the moment we met, was to see me break and be the one to fit the pieces back together any way it suits you.  

Did you expect me to chip some bits and pieces off of you too?  

Did you imagine I was capable of destroying you?  

I hold on tighter, our bodies flush, you breathing in pushes the oxygen out of my lungs, my breathing in pushes the oxygen out of yours. 

Do you want sex I wonder?  

I press closer, hold on tighter, put all my weight on you, forcing you off balance into the void. 

Falling—is just flying in the wrong direction. 

Later, the rest of his life, in fact, I don't remember landing, I don't remember anything but the eternal fall and your arms clutching me tightly. I wonder, what do you remember? I never bothered asking and you never mentioned. 

 

I feel you watching from across the room, a benevolent emperor surveying his empire. Despite the absurdly expensive suit, I still feel out of place, I don't want to be here, but I don't want the evening to end either. 

When it ends—someone is going to die. 

My little anniversary present to you, the only present you ever truly want—an animal, to share. 

The celebration is their hunting ground, the culling floor in fancy dress. 

While I'm lost in thought, contemplating each potential victim, in turn, contemplating which cuts I would prefer to see prepared, Hannibal crosses the room, his hand curling tenderly around my elbow. 

"Quite a lavish party you throw! How long have you been together again?" A woman asks I remember she was invited because she's always rude to staff in her own restaurant and when going out. 

"Sometimes it feels like forever," I roll my eyes, and she thinks it's a joke. Unfortunately, sometimes I am no longer sure any longer. How do I count? From the moment I met Hannibal? From the moment we fell? 

"Three years," Hannibal tells her, pulling me back against his chest, his breath warm on the side of my neck. I want to feel his teeth on my skin, I want to be back home, in our bedroom where I can scream as he bites down, "Will tends to be horrible with dates."  

We play the infatuated couple, or maybe not—we are _not_ lovers, we are _not_ in love. We are far more and far less... 

"As long as he remembers your birthday, I suppose, you can't ask for more!" I realize she's decided on our roles, amused to see Hannibal cast as 'the little woman'. From the corner of my eye, I see his eyes narrow, the polite smile turn into a predatory grin. She's definitely a contender, if maybe too skinny, I wonder what Botox tastes like? A concern with several male guests as well, every last one with oodles of chemicals inside of them keeping them alive, keeping them happy.  

I turn to Hannibal, his jaw is smooth under my fingers, when I dig my thumb into the sweet spot under his jaw his eyelids fall, and I can feel a lazy swallow under my fingers. The game of false submission should have gotten old a long time ago, but he keeps finding new ways of drawing me in, riddling me up to greater heights of depravity to assure himself that I am still with him, still _understand_. 

More pleasantries are exchanged by rote before I can extricate myself and go hide on the balcony. The late autumn air is cool, the moon hanging heavy above the ocean, the black waters look—inviting. 

"Will?" He doesn't try to touch, stands close enough I feel his breath on my cheek, "do you want to go home?" That would mean the game would have to be played out some other time, or the monster will be left unsatisfied. 

"No," I turn, twist his tie around my hand and force him down into a biting, vicious kiss. He tastes like champagne, and citrus, oranges from the groves all around us, "I haven't decided yet."  

"I can wait?" He offers, generous as usual, not he has everything he'd dreamed of. 

"I don't want to," waiting would mean gathering another group, starting the game all over again. Leaving Hannibal to fuss with his tie, I lean against the balcony railing next to the door, letting the still warm iron ground me as I watch the guests. 

So many options, some guiltier than others, Hannibal's local herd—funny how I've never seen any of them in my nightmares. 

"I want him!" I decide, pointing at a youngish man, a predator with a taste for torture and bad manners who will never quit unless he's stopped. Hannibal chuckles, possibly because he knew whom I'd pick already, possibly because he enjoys watching me indulge his appetites. 

"Then you shall have him," his fingers on my temples massaging out the stress feel good. His fingers would feel better if we were in bed, all the windows open to let in the night breeze and the sounds of nature outside: neighbor's dogs barking, the water in the pool sloshing against the side, wildlife moving in the undergrowth, and the Goldberg Variations softly playing all the living room, the faint screams from the basement of the animal being fattened. 

"Thank you," I turn, accepting another kiss and Hannibal's weight pinning my body to the wall. 

The kiss tells me I'm going home alone tonight. 

"Good hunting," I tell him, batting his hands away as he tries to straighten my tie. 


End file.
